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Friday, February 8, 2013

In the middle
of the night the town tailor woke to the commotion of hooves and men. He
brushed aside the curtains and peered through his bedroom window at the street
below. He could see the lights still shining at Hamp’s saloon, a group of men
were gathered in the mud, draped in long dark coats that shielded them from the
rain’s misty leftovers. He changed his pants, threw on a white undershirt and
grabbed the jacket hanging near the bedroom door. His wife woke from the noise.

“Where
are you going James?” She asked.

“There’s
some commotion out there. Nothing more than another bar fight I’m betting. You
stay in bed, I’ll go see if some of those boys are going to need a shirt or two
mended.”

His wife
nodded and turned over.

James
left the bedroom, hurried down through the shop and emerged into the street. He
crossed to the other side, passing over the ridges of mud and divots of rain
water that had been created by the night’s riding. Once across, he worked his
way up to Hamp’s saloon, keeping to the road’s edges where the ground remained
mostly undisturbed. Ahead he saw the men still gathered in front of the bar.
They were standing in a half-circle around the entrance, looking down at
something obscured from James’ view. James heard noise behind him. He stopped
and watched as a wagon approached, pulled by two large, black horses and accompanied
by a lone rider. The wagon slowly made its way towards the bar, its wheels
struggling to push past the resistance of the fractured street. The rider was
speaking to the driver, giving him instructions on how to navigate the mud. James was surprised when he recognized the
voice as that of the old Colonel, Bart Everett.

“What
business does the holy man have at the saloon at this hour of the night?” James
thought to himself.

The
wagon continued on and as it was passing James, the wheels got lodged in the muck
and refused to move. The colonel shook his head and then whistled to the men at
the bar. The men lifted their heads.

“You
boys get over here. The wagon’s stuck.” Bart called out at them.

A few
men broke away from the semi-circle and hurried towards the trapped wagon. As
the men approached, the colonel noticed James standing on the side of the rode
and gave him a long look. James instinctively took a step back and then nodded.
The men approached, James recognized them as Davy McNeil, Francis Whiteman and
Beau Thompson, all faithful Everett supporters. It occurred to James that the
men ahead were probably all Everett supporters; he wondered if they weren’t
robbing the saloon. But it seemed strange that they would steal so openly. And
where were the Tutts to defend their property? The three men gathered at the back of the
buggy. When the driver urged the horses forward, they began to push. It was an
exercise in futility; their arms pressed at full strength but their feet slid
and sunk in the mud, refusing to grant leverage.

The
colonel let out a sigh, swore under his breath and then turned his horse to
face James.

“Go
push.” He ordered.

Although
Bart’s voice was calm and even, James couldn’t help but feel it was more a
threat then a command. He shifted in his boots uneasily.

The
Colonel pulled his horse closer to James and pulled out a pistol.

“You
hear me?”

James
took a few steps backwards, staring at the gun. Even in the dark he could see
the cold glimmering off the steel barrel.

Bart’s
voice quieted and he cocked the pistol hammer.

“Wagon’s
the other way.”

James
nodded and moved towards the wagon. The men waited for him to grab a hold. Once
again the driver started the horses and James pushed against the road. The men
groaned and slipped with their efforts, and soon they were caked in the foul
mud. Bart sat atop his horse, watching the men. The wheels finally budged,
pushing slightly forward before rolling back to its original position. This
small movement was a victory for the men, who began to rock the wagon until
they had gained enough momentum to free the wheels from the groove. Once released,
the wagon team hobbled towards the bar.

James
and the men followed behind. As the wagon neared the front of the bar, the
remaining crowd parted to make room. James approached and saw a man lying on
the porch. He saw the face, unrecognizably covered with rivulets of dried blood
that had escaped from the gore-brown cloth above and knew instantly the man was
dead. Some of the men stepped forward to
gather the remains. Two more men hopped into the back of the wagon and together
they carefully transferred the man from the porch to the wagon bed. When the
deed was done, the men reverently stepped away from the wagon. James watched
Bart ride to the side of the wagon and stare down at the corpse. Though there
were no tears shed, the stillness of the men watching Bart hinted to James that
the dead man was none other than Sim Everett.

Bart
lifted his gaze and brought his horse near the Saloon porch. He shouted into the bar, his voice was loud
and clear, but still calm and sad. He sounded like a wary pastor advising a
prodigal congregation.

“Hamp, I
know you are in there. Your King boys killed my brother, Hamp. Sim’s dead. It
was your boys’ who did it.”

He
paused before shouted again.

“You
know where this leads Hamp. It’s been coming for some time now. I was a fool to
think it could end any other way, but I see that now. Tonight it’s our blood,
but next it will be yours.” Bart lifted his pistol. The gun sparked in the dark
air, accompanied by a loud report and followed by the dull thump of the bullet
hitting the wood.

“You be
ready, Hamp.” He fired again at the door.

“The
bloods coming,” Another clap of powder.

“And
even the great Hamp Tutt won’t be able to stop it.”

He fired
the rest of the rounds in slow, spaced intervals until the pistol was empty. Neither
James nor the other men moved, they stood and watched the flicks of bright
flame and listened to the splintering of the wood door.

When the
gun was emptied, there was silence once again. It was broken a few moments
later by the arrival of two more riders. It was Mooney’s deputies, Ned Harris
and Red Jennings. They lingered for a moment, armed with their pistols and
badges, eyeing the crowd suspiciously. The deputies rode around the wagon and
examined Sim’s body from their saddles. Bart turned on his horse to face the deputies.
Ned stopped when the colonel turned, Red
continued to the front of the bar and then dismounted. He walked up to the door
and fingered the holes, then turned to address Bart.

“Go on
and take your brother out of here, Colonel. The doors done nothing to harm him.
Go see to his burial and we’ll see to the King boys.”

“Where’s
Mooney?”

“He’s
doing what he always does, serving warrants.”

“He’ll
have to serve those warrants on corpses, Red.”

“You
know how the law works, Colonel. They’ll be arrested then tried and then
punished if guilty. They won’t be dead unless the law convicts them.”

The colonel
shook his sad. “You think the law will really give them justice?”

Red sighed,
resting his hands on his hips.

“I
remember how you ran the law, Bart, so it’s no wonder you mistrust it. But the
law is the law, and you’d best remember that our Sheriff doesn’t appreciate
people who don’t respect his law.”

Red
paused for a moment, but didn’t wait for a response.

“Now get
on out of here. You’ve got more important things to be doing then idling in
front of this saloon showing off your pistol.”

Bart
stared at Red a moment longer before turning. He signaled to the driver and the
wagon set off down the street. Bart took one more look at the deputies and the men,
then turned and followed.

Red
watched Bart disappear into the dark and then began to disperse the crowd.

“Go on,
get on out of here. Saloon’s closed for the evening.”

The men
began to shuffle away. Red noticed James and stopped him.

“What’s
a tailor doing away from his wife at this hour.”

“Came to
see the commotion.” James replied. “I didn’t know there’d been a murder. You
know how he died?”

“A
garden hoe. The old boy reaped what he’d sown.”

“A
garden hoe?”

Red
didn’t give any more response. He was staring down the street at the line of
men disappearing into the dark.

“Get on
home James, don’t want your wife worrying.”

James
gave a quick parting nod and shuffled away from the Saloon. Red turned his
attention to his partner, who was standing on the steps waiting. Red walked
towards his partner.

“Mooney
isn’t coming?” Ned asked.

“His
wife is in tough shape tonight, he told me he couldn’t leave in case it was
time. You know that pup’s coming any day.”

There
was a pause. Ned kicked his boot on the step to shake off some mud.

“I wish
he’d do more Sheriff’n and less babysit’n. This town’s in a bad spot.”

“Family,
Ned. You know the man.”

“Family after
duty. It’s Mooney who’s got the title and me who’s left to deal with all the
messes.”

“If you
did more dealing and less talking, there might be a lot less messes round here.”

The
Deputies entered into the saloon and examined the room. They could see the main
floor had been cleared. The near wall hosted a pile of splintered wood and
fragmented furniture. The tables and chairs that had escaped the fight were
pushed against the far wall. A colored
boy gave the deputies a greeting nod before returning to his task of sweeping the
remaining wood chips and glass shards towards the doorway. Two more men were stooped
over a dark stain, unmindful of the deputies’ entrance. They were dedicated to
their task, scrubbing the floor like fated slaves resigned to their purpose.

The
deputies watched the men in silence. The rags passed over the darkened wood in
tempo as regular as a grandfather clock, but whether it was to any effect, they
couldn’t tell. Both men guessed the scrubbing was frivolous, knowing that water
lacked the strength to cleanse wood of blood. Yet they didn’t object to the
men’s chore. It was a reminder of guilt and a ward against the ghost of Sim
Everettt. After this brief reverie, Red called out to the sweeper.

“Boy, where’s Hamp?”

The boy
stopped his sweeping and pointed towards a door on the backside of the room. The
deputy nodded. He and Ned moved towards the back, warily passing the rags at
work. They opened the door and entered a lightless pantry. The flicker of the
lantern’s from the main hall cast dim shadows onto the pantry’s shelves. When
their eyes adjusted, they saw a door on the other side and beside it a window
decorated with a faint light. The deputies proceeded out this door and back
into the humid night.

Hamp and
his boys were sitting around a table, huddled around a single lantern. When the deputies exited the saloon, the group
ceased their quiet conversation and eyed the deputies. Hamp spoke up.

“Just
you two boys? Where’s Mooney.”

“Just us
two.”

Hamp
stood slowly from his seat at the end of the table. His beard was long and his
eyes were old, but the deputies knew Hamp’s strength. He wasn’t tall, but even in the dark they
could see the man’s stout chest and his sure will. He beckoned to the deputies,
welcoming them towards the table. The deputies approached, hands on their gun
handles.

“You
seen the bar.” Hamp said. “Our saloon’s in a pretty bad way. Four tables broken,
busted so bad they wouldn’t even warm a fire, three more wouldn’t support a
deck of cards no more, and Lord knows how many glasses and chairs gone. Them
Everett boys think they can get away with damaging my property, startin fights
in my saloon. I expect Mooney will be serving warrants.”

“Not
over the chairs, Hamp” Ned answered. “If we were to throw someone in jail every
time someone broke a chair in one of your bar fights, we’d have to take Tutt
Hill and turn it into a jailhouse to fit the prisoners.”

“Feel
free to bring them on by deputy, I’d be happy to take them off your hands.”

“Sim’s
dead, Hamp. There’s going to be warrants served.”

Hamp’s
voice quieted. “It’s a sorry thing he died. I ain’t going to pretend to care
for the Everetts, but I don’t ever like to see a man give up the ghost.”

Ned
nodded. “Now I’ve heard enough to know that John and Sam King were involved,
and so were the Irish twins. Mooney is off to old man Kings to serve their warrants
in the morning.”

“The
King boys? Deputy, you can’t be expecting to arrest them boys. What happened to
Sim was his own doing. He was too much like his brother Jesse. He was out of
control. I tell you if it hadn’t been his blood on that floor it would’ve been
somebody else’s.”

“We can
only go off the blood in front of us.” Ned replied. “Murder’s been done, Hamp.”

“So
that’s what you come here for. To get our leave to take our boys and throw them
in jail, just for defending themselves from that son-of-a-bitch.”

“We ain’t come to get your permission. You
know Mooney, he’ll serve those warrants come hell or high water. But he sent us
here to make sure you stay smart. You heard Bart shouting for you out front.
The man’s ready for revenge. This town’s gone wild, Hamp. Mooney wants to make
sure it doesn’t turn savage.”

Hamp
glanced at his boys.

“We
won’t be going looking for Bart.”

“He’ll
be looking for you.” Red replied tersely. “I know you get how to look after
yourself and your own, but the man’s dangerous. You and your boys go hold up on
the hill for a while, give things time to cool down.”

Hamp
passed his hand through his beard and up through his white hair. He looked down
at his boys again and back to the deputies.

“We
ain’t hiding. If he comes, we’ll settle things whatever way he chooses to
settle them.”

“You’re
a stubborn old fool, Hamp.” Red replied.

“That’s
what my wife tells me.”

Red
nodded. “Just know that there will be accountability. Whatever trouble you get
into, you’ll be needing to answer for.”

“I hear
you deputy.”

There
was a pause. Ned spoke up from behind.

“What
can you tell us about Cherokee Bob. We ain’t heard where he’s hiding up at.”

“I ain’t
seem him, deputy. You know how those half-Indians are, probably skirted off to
the Indian nation at the first sign of blood.”

“So you
ain’t holding him up here?”

“No sir.
I got no loyalties to Cherokee Bob. Honest truth I’d turn him in right now if I
knew where he was. It’s that Injun who’s to blame for this whole mess. Them
King boys is innocent.”

Ned gave
a nod. “I hear ye Hamp.”

The
deputies turned to go. But Ned stopped to address Hamp. “Mind if we take a
drink for the road Hamp? Lord knows we’ll earn it these next few days.”

Hamp had
already re-huddled with his boy. He gave a brief look over his shoulder and
nodded. “Lord knows” He said. The deputies were off.

As they
passed through town on the way to Mooney’s farm, thin wisps of light began to
peak in the east. They rode in quiet companionship, watching the sun rise. The
sky was clear, with the exception of a few tufts of pastel clouds, left behind
by the retreating storm. Even this early the air was still warm, with
occasional gusts of a cool Northeast breeze that gave relief against the
ever-present summer humidity. The buildings of town faded away and soon they
were in the outlying forests. Mooney’s farm was not far ahead.

Once in
the forests, the Ozark trees began to crowd the deputies. Old and irritable Hickory trees watched the
riders from above. Crowding around their scaled trunks grew schools of teeming
Sassafras and Red-bud, who, despite the number of stumped limbs brought on by axe-wielding
travelers, still daringly reached their branches over the boundary grasses and
onto the well-worn roads. The deputies passed through these crowding masses,
chatting lazily amidst the buzz of cicadas and the sudden stirring of animals
in the brush.

When
they arrived at Mooney’s, beads of perspiration were beginning to form on both the
horses and the men. They dismounted the animals and tied them at the water
trough. The front door opened and Jesse Mooney stepped out. Ned took off his
hat.

“No baby
yet. It’ll be coming any day. Thought for sure it’d have been last night. But
she’s resting in the other room, come in and catch me up.”

The
deputies followed orders and entered the house. The front room was empty and
the men took seats at the table. Ned set his hat on the table and rubbed his
hand against the surface.

“I’ve
said it before, Sheriff, but this here’s a beautiful table.” Ned said. “Last
time I saw a carved trestle I was still a boy in Carolina.”

“There
are some things a son can learn from his father and some things he can’t. My
old man taught me how to carve, but he ain’t never taught me how to Sheriff. What
did you find in town?”

”Sim’s
dead alright.” Red responded. “We met Bart loading up the body at the saloon.
He made threats and it sounds to me like he’s ready to kill those King boys.”

Mooney
nodded. “I’m going to go out and serve those warrants this morning.”

“Why
don’t you let me go get them boys, Sheriff.” Ned said. “Town needs to see your
face, let them know there’s still order around here.”

“If I
leave now it’ll be little more than an hour ride out and I’ll be back early in
the afternoon to show my face around town. I want them to see the King boys
have been arrested.”

“I’ll
bring them in for you, Sheriff. The earlier you appear in town the better. It
wasn’t even sunrise yet when we were there, but already there’s a tension
building. You best get a pulse of the situation so you know what needs to be
done.”

“I hear
you, Ned, but I’m telling you it’s best for me to deal with the King boys. They
won’t be wanting to come along for the ride. Old man King and my father held
decent respect for each other, I think it’s best I talk to him and see if we
can’t work things out reasonably. There will be warrants served for five
arrests: Cherokee Bob, John King, Sam King, and the Irish twins. From what I
hear, John was the one guilty of the murder, but I want to make a statement by
arresting the other boys. They won’t be convicted, but that doesn’t matter. The violence between the families has to stop
and I’m going to make sure the town gets that message.”

Red
spoke up.

“Make it
four arrests, Sheriff. Cherokee Bob is gone. We suspect he’s made for the
reservation.”

“Come on
out, Tom. If your only options are listening through the door or listening
outside it, might as well be the latter.” Mooney said.

Tom
emerged from the bedroom. He was a handsome boy of 15, with his mother’s curly
blond hair and his father’s dark eyes.

“Want me
to go after Cherokee Bob, dad? He left after the rain stopped, he’d be easy to
track.”

“No boy,
you’re going to stay here and look after your mother.”

Tom
looked disappointed, but managed to mutter “Yes sir.”

Mooney turned to his deputies.

“I want
you boys back in town. You go to the Tailor and have him dust you off. I want
those badges shined and those guns gleaming. People will know the law’s still
king when they see your brasses baring. And especially keep an eye on the
Everetts and the Tutts.”

The
deputies nodded.

“Anything
else?”

The
deputies remained quiet. Mooney’s eyes turned to Ned who was shifting in his
boots, his eyes fixed on the table.

“Damnit,
Ned, speak up.”

Ned’s
eyes remained on the table. He hesitated a moment and then looked up at the
Sheriff.

“Word is
they sent for Jesse.”

Ned’s
eyes returned to the table. There was a moment of silence before Red spoke, his
head also downturn.

“They
expect he’ll be coming up from Texas. I suspect he’ll be here within the week.”

There
was another pause. Mooney shook his head.

“When he comes to town, we’ll arrest him
straightaway and hang him. The warrant on him is still valid. And if he resists
don’t hesitate to shoot him. We all know what kind of man Jesse Everett is, and
we don’t need him causing more bloodshed. Red, when you’re in town I want you
over to Hamp Tutts place. Warn him that Jesse’s coming up. It’s best that he be
on guard. And if either of you two boys hear as much as a little profanity in
town, I want you the throw the son-of-a-bitch in jail. Now you boys ready? This
month you’ll earn your wages.”

“Yes
sir.”

Ned
shook his head as the two deputies stood to go. “We’ll earn double our salary,
Sheriff, and it won’t take more than a week.”

They
exchanged quick handshakes and headed out the door with Tom and Mooney trailing.

Tom brought
the deputies’ horses round to them. They thanked the boy, said goodbye to the
Sheriff and started back.

Mooney and
Tom headed for the barn. The Sheriff’s horse, a spotted black and white
appaloosa, greeted them with a twitch of the head and a tussle of his hoof.
Mooney stroked the bridge of its nose and patted its side. He had bought the
horse from an Indian trader years before. It was a smaller horse and stubborn
as hell, and at the price of 15 dollars the Indian begged to be rid of him.
When Mooney first saw the beast, he could see the intelligence in the eyes and bought
him straightaway. Mooney told all who would listen that the horse was the best
investment he’d ever made. The horse was already alert, sensing the urgency and
the danger of the coming ride. Tom brought over the saddle and in a few moments
Mooney was ready to leave. He mounted the horse and Tom walked them out towards
the road.

“I’ll
ride for you first thing if mom says she’s ready.”

Mooney
nodded.

“And I
know how to prepare the water and the blankets. I’ll make sure she’s taken care
of.”

“You’re
a good boy Tom.”

“I wish
I could ride with you, doesn’t seem right for you to be going alone.”

“Watch your mother today, but before this mess
is through you’ll be riding with me.”

Tom
nodded and extended a hand towards his father. Mooney shook it and said goodbye
to the boy.